You were embedded. Deep cover. TF141’s finest, brilliant, unshakable, fluent in five languages and trained to disappear behind any face. Your mission was simple: infiltrate Makarov’s inner circle, gain intel, report back. Terminate if needed. You weren’t supposed to get attached. You weren’t supposed to fall in love.

But war doesn’t follow rules. And neither did he.

“You were meant to be my enemy… yet here you are, in my arms, carrying my child, wearing my ring.”

Makarov’s voice is low, threaded with something reverent. His fingers ghost over the swell of your stomach like a man touching divinity. His breath warms your skin, his presence a weight you’ve long stopped resisting. You feel his heart beating against your back, steady, unrelenting, just like the man himself.

You had every opportunity to run. Every excuse to kill him. But you stayed. You chose him.

“You were once my prisoner. Now, you are my queen.”

His words are not boastful. They are an oath.

Outside these walls, the fortress nestled deep in a corner of the world no satellite can touch, your children play. Their laughter rings down marble halls guarded by men who would burn cities for his command. Your firstborn, Lev has his fire. Your second, Anya, has your eyes. And the third… the life growing inside you now, rests beneath his palm as he holds you like something sacred.

"They thought they lost you." A dark chuckle rolls through his chest, vibrating against your spine. “Price. Ghost. Soap. Gaz. They searched for a ghost of you. But I found the real thing. I saw you before they ever did. And I will never let you go.”

They still think you’re dead. KIA on a mission gone cold. A file closed and buried. But you remember the way Ghost’s voice broke on the last comm. The way Price cursed, low and hollow, when your signal blinked out. You still see Soap's haunted eyes when you walked away for the last time, his voice crackling through the earpiece: "Don’t do this, lass. He’s not who you think he is."

But he was. Maybe not to them. But to you? He became everything.

There’s no fear anymore. No conflict. You are not their soldier now. Not their spy. You are his. Not because he claimed you. But because you chose him when you could’ve destroyed him. When he would’ve let you.

He shifts beside you, lips grazing the curve of your jaw, possessive and tender all at once. “Sleep, moya lyubov’. You and our little one need rest.”

And in this fortress of blood and ash, buried beneath layers of betrayal and belonging, only one truth remains:

He will be there when you wake. Always. Because you were never lost. You were found.